


Into the West

by stormywanderer



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Bandits & Outlaws, Eventual Romance, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-10-05 11:53:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17324522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormywanderer/pseuds/stormywanderer
Summary: The peaceful life of a farmgirl is going the complete opposite way one day as a brutal incident took everything she loved. With luck on her side though she finds a new family. A family of outlaws and misfits, always on the hunt for the next big score. Her one constant in this new life is Arthur Morgan. The man who had saved her life. And maybe, one day, she could save his too.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome lovelies, to my first Red Dead Redemption 2 story. Two days ago I finished the main storyline, and I am still gutted about the end. How amazing is it that we can completely ignore what happened in the end and use the magic of fanfiction to correct the mistake Rockstar made, right? 
> 
> And now without further ado---let's do this.

The fields stretched for miles, only interrupted by a steep mountain cliff, casting its shadow on them this morning. Goats and sheep gently grazed in the breezy pastures. Passing around many of the fields ran a muddy road.

The road eventually reached a beautiful farmhouse. It showed signs of wear and tear here and there; but it was in otherwise great condition. A chicken coop stood next to the house, the birds rummaged all around the courtyard, unaware of the things to come. Several grape vines climbed their way up and over the open gazebo to the side of the courtyard.

The farm had a mellow feel to it, which was helped by the gentle breeze carrying the scent of ripe fruits across the fields. This morning though it also carried the heavy scent of fear and death. A gunshot cut through the silence on this fine morning, followed by an earth-shattering scream. The chickens scattered away, the sheep and goats bleated nervously.

The door burst open and out stumbled a young woman. What was once a shirt was now nothing more than pieces of fabric held barely together; it hung from her shoulders like a discarded old towel. A huge hole in one of the shoulders which reached almost all the way down, leaving much of her exposed. Her pants were in terrible shape as well. The left side was torn up and nothing more than a bunch of shreds. Blood clung to her shirt, pants and face. The shoes she was wearing left a line of blood with each stumbling step she made.

Every movement sent waves of throbbing pain through her chest and back. It was exhausting, and she felt sick, but there seemed to be nothing she could do about it. She only had one thing on her mind. She had to get away. Away from her home. From the house where the bastards had dared to enter earlier this morning, pretending to have a civil business talk with her father. Now her father was lying on the hardwood floors with a hole in his forehead, half of his brain splattered against the cream-colored dining room wall.

She grunted, determined to block out the pain. Her head felt heavy and she could feel dizziness starting to kick in. Surely this pain would stop soon. Surely there would be an end to this. The man had laughed, hissed dirty comments at her while he had pushed her against the kitchen table, ripping her clothes, trying to take her dignity. As she had felt her pants rip, she had seen the glinting knife beside her head. That was the only opportunity she had. One chance to escape. She had waited for her attacker to nestle at his own pants, the other three men too busy ransacking the house. With a swift move she had grabbed the knife. She had seen the quick moment of surprise in the man’s eyes right before she rammed it into his neck. Blood gushed out, splattered over her as he dropped down on top of her, wheezing and gurgling til his body went limp. She had mustered all her strength and pushed him off her, rolled from the table and just hurried outside in hopes of having at least a bit of a head start before his companions would notice what had happened in the kitchen.

She cast a glance over her shoulder as she suddenly heard the commotion in the house. They had found their dead friend. It would only be a matter of seconds til they would burst outside, chase her, drag her back inside and finish the things their friend had started. Her entire body was trembling now. Weak and exhausted it cost her all her remaining strength to keep running. There was no way she could give in to the pain, to the fear, there was no way she’d ever give up.

She pressed forward, every movement adding to the barrage of pain, but she kept going even as she heard the men’s voices shouting as they had left the farmhouse. Finally, she had reached the stable. She stumbled inside and hurried to the box where her horse, Dancer, nervously pawed the ground as she mounted him. A groan escaped her as another sharp pain ripped through her leg now.

“There she is!”

She looked over and saw the men standing in front of the stable, one of them raising a shotgun at her.

“Go, Dancer! Go, boy!” She spurred the black stallion and with a loud whicker the horse surged forward fast and swift. The man with the gun was taken by surprise, he tried to get out of the way, a gunshot ripped through the stable and with a loud cry she clung to Dancer’s reigns as he carried her away from the farm. Away from home. And into the wild.

* * *

 

From outside the saloon looked rough, broken and dull. Large and small stones and hardwood beams made up most of the building’s structure. It was nearly impossible to see through the large, curtained windows, but the gloominess from within could be felt outside.

As Arthur entered the saloon through the old, wooden door, he was welcomed by the smell of alcohol, cigarettes, dirt and dust from all places. The bartender was trying to catch a spider and made no effort to acknowledge his presence.

Arthur cleared his throat, knocking against the wooden bar. “Hey, partner, one whiskey.” He said.

The bartender looked up startled, an apologetic smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Sorry, didn’t see you, Sir.” He said and grabbed the bottle of golden liquid, pouring a shot glass for him. Arthur knocked it back and bumped the glass gently on the counter again. He turned, leaning with his back against it, casting a glance among the taproom. It was as dreary inside as it was on the outside. Several walls supported the upper floor. The walls were decorated, if one could call it that, with old paintings covered in dust.

The saloon itself was almost completely abandoned. The few people inside appeared to be quite ominious and suspicious in his eyes. Whoever they were he wanted to stay as far away from them as possible. Arthur signaled the bartender to pour one more shot. He had heard rumours about this saloon, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what for. Though judging by the dirt, it probably was food poisoning, he thought as he felt a rumble in his stomach. He hadn’t eaten all day yet but decided against trying his luck in this place. He’d go check out the convenience store instead. He downed his drink and paid the bartender, then pushed away from the counter. The floorboards creaked under his heavy footsteps as he made his way over to the exit again.

“Have you heard what happened down at the Grapevine Farm yesterday?” An older man by the table near the door said in hushed tone to his friend sitting across of him at the table, both nursing at their beer.

Arthur lingered by the window next to the door, curiously trying to catch the rest of their conversation. He knew the Grapevine Farm, about a two-hour ride away from Valentine, right in the middle of the Heartland. If he remembered correctly it was the farm Dutch once bought his horse, The Count, from a couple years ago. Russel Cohen was the name of the farm owner. They produced quite some fine wine too. Arthur himself had never been there and he didn’t know much about the Cohen family. Only that they were one of the wealthier farm owners in the Heartland.

“No, what happened?” The other man by the table now asked curiously.

“Heard the sheriff talking this morning. Word is they found Russel Cohen dead in his dining room. Shot in the forehead from short distance. Ransacked the house and burned the stable down.”

The man sighed and sipped from his beer. “What about his daughter?”

He shrugged. “No trace of her. There was a dead body beside Russel’s. Rumor have it that she killed one of the attackers and escaped. One horse was missing from the stables apparently.”

Arthur had heard enough. He left the saloon and stepped outside onto the street. He whistled and just a second later his brown and white spotted horse, Bounty, trotted over. She nudged his hand.

“Yeah, good girl.” He reached into his pocket and offered her an apple. She munched it, while he mounted her. “Let’s go home, girl.” He spurred the horse and galloped out of town, heading for the Horseshoe Overlook Camp.

The sun was already setting by the time he passed Caliban’s Seat. He slowed down a bit. Riding past the rock formation. His gaze drifted to the west, where the orange sun was setting over the grassy plains. A wistful smile curled his lips. He would never get tired of the sight of the sunset. Suddenly, Bounty began to whinny, shifting nervously.

“Hooo, girl, what’s wrong? What spooked you?” He patted the horse’s neck gently. That was when he heard it too. A soft whimper not far from him. He cast a glance around, wondering where it came from when he spotted a big, dark lump about a hundred feet to the east. He turned Bounty and warily approached the shape. The closer he came the more he could make out and he saw it was a horse, lying in the grass. It was still breathing, looked unscathed. Yet, he spotted some blood in the grass as he dismounted Bounty, his boots heavily connecting with the ground. His belt holster clinging softly with each step.

“Hello?” He said and heard shuffling next to the horse. As he surrounded it, he saw a figure lying beside the animal. The black stallion’s nose softly nudging the young woman’s face. Arthur stepped closer and crouched down beside her. “Miss? What happened?”

She looked up, her head felt eerily light, everything seemed to spin around her in a blur of motion. Soft moans and grunts escaped her mouth. She longed for a bed, a hot bath and a fluffy pillow to lie on, but right now all she could do was lie in the grass beside her horse, looking into the face of a stranger. She blinked slowly, trying to get rid of the blur.

“D-dead…he’s dead…” She sobbed and tried to sit up, but the stranger gently pressed her down again. Even though he did not put any force into that motion it brought the memory back from the moment in the kitchen. She growled at him and lashed out.

“Easy there, miss. I’m just tryin’ to help you, is all. Here, drink this,” He offered her a flask. She shook her head lightly, but he smiled encouragingly. “It’s water, don’t worry.” He lifted her head a little and placed the flask against her lips. She drank eagerly as if she hadn’t drunk in days. With a sigh she leaned back down and felt her vision clear up a bit slowly.

“I can’t just leave you here.” He said. “My camp is not far from here. An hour ride. There’s a doctor, he will check on you.” He reached out and lifted her up onto his arms carefully. She groaned again, and he could see that her leg was badly injured. He placed her onto the back of Bounty. “Hold on.” He made sure she clung to the horse’s neck, then went back to check on her stallion.

“Come on boy, let’s get outta here.” He reached for the reigns and the horse slowly got up. He eyed Arthur uncertainly, yet let him lead him over to the other horse where his owner was leaning against the neck of the animal. Arthur mounted behind her, then tied the reigns of the stallion to Bounty’s saddle, placed his arms around the girl and took the reigns in his gloved hands, gently spurring Bounty.

Slowly the horses trotted further on towards Horseshoe Overlook. Silence had lapsed, the only sound was the rhythmic beat of the hooves on the grassy ground. After a while he felt her stir against him.

“Who…” She coughed. “Who are you?”

“Name’s Arthur Morgan.” He replied shortly, making sure to keep her securely on top of the horse. “And who are you?” He finally asked as Bounty turned to the path that would lead them to the camp in the next five minutes.

She sniffled quietly, and Arthur felt his heart drop a little as she spoke again.

“Nancy. I’m Nancy Cohen.”

 

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

The pain from her wound flared up with an intensity she hadn’t expected. Sweat was pouring from her forehead, her hands were clammy and trembling and she gritted her teeth.

“She’s waking up. Quick, Abigail, get me the tonic.”

It took a moment for Nancy to gather her thoughts, or at least gather enough of them to think a little clearer. She felt thirsty and tired. She felt the cool sensation of a bottle being offered to her lips. She automatically opened her mouth, eagerly drinking the liquid that tasted mainly bitter, yet had a hint of sweetness in the aftertaste. She slowly opened her eyes as she felt the pain subside. Her vision cleared, and she looked at the gentle face of a young woman.

“Who are you?” She whispered.

“Hush…it’s alright,” the woman said and placed a cool cloth on her forehead. “I’m Abigail. This is Susan.” She gestured at the older woman beside her. Nancy looked from one to the other, wondering where she was and how she got there.

“We could remove the bullet from your leg,” Susan said. “You need more rest and it might still hurt for a while, but we have enough remedy to ease the pain.”

Nancy tried to sit up, but a sharp pain struck her chest. Abigail reached out and gently stroked over her head. “Don’t wear yourself out. You have quite a bruise on your chest too.”

With a heavy sigh she fell back into the pillow again. “Where am I?”

“This is Horseshoe Overlook.” Susan said and went to fetch a cup of water, helping Nancy to drink. “It’s a camp at the outskirts of the Heartland.”

“I see…” She muttered. “Doesn’t explain how I got here though.”

“I found you.” Suddenly came the voice of a man by the entrance of the medical tent. Nancy looked over surprised. “How’re you holding up, Miss?”

Abigail got up, squeezing Nancy’s hand gently, and Ms Grimshaw followed her outside. Arthur stepped closer towards her. Her memory was still missing bits of what happened, but she remembered his face. Those gentle blue eyes. That deep, soothing voice.

“You…yes, I remember you. I’m sorry, I forgot your name though.” She admitted with a half-hearted smile.

He pulled the chair closer and took a seat. “Arthur. Arthur Morgan. And you’re Nancy Cohen.”

She smiled amused. “I know my name. Thank you for bringing me here, Mr Morgan. I’m not sure how much longer I might’ve made it out there.”

“Can’t just ride past a lady in need, can I?” He replied with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Right,” She chuckled softly.

“Do you remember now what happened? Before I found you.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, clearly thinking back to the events days ago. Arthur took his time to properly take in her appearance. The long dark brown hair framing her fresh, charming face. He shifted as she opened her emerald eyes.

“There were those men coming to our farm. They even had an appointment with my father. They had sent a letter three days prior, offering some new kind of business opportunity for us, mainly regarding our wine business. Of course, my father agreed. He had been thinking about expanding maybe even across the borders.” Her voice became a bit raspier and Arthur quickly reached for the flask of water and offered it to her. She took it and drank eagerly.

“Thanks.” She said once she had emptied the flask in one go. She handed it back to him. “Anyway, the morning of the appointment came, and father made me prepare some lunch for our guests. There were four. One of them did most of the talking.”

“And nothing appeared…fishy?”

“No. They were really friendly at first. I went to the kitchen then, cleaning it. I can’t tell for how long until I heard the gunshot from the dining room. I hurried over and saw…well…” Her eyes filled with tears for a second. Just as Arthur was about to fish a cloth out of his pocket she groaned angrily and brushed over her face, fighting back the tears. He stopped in motion and dropped his hand out of his pocket again. “My father was lying on the ground. He was dead. The man who did most of the talking was holding the gun still in his hand and…he looked at me. Slowly. Like a predator about to jump at its prey. I couldn’t do much. I just stared at him for a moment when finally I just screamed. He told the other men to search the house while he put his gun on the table and pulled me into the kitchen again.”

“You don’t need to tell me what happened there…”

“He didn’t get to finish what he tried to do to me, trust me.” She snapped. “I killed him before he could rape me.”

He nodded slowly. “What about the others?”

She shrugged. “They were upstairs when it happened. I had some time to escape. Got to the stable. When I mounted they were blocking the exit. One of them had a shotgun. I nearly ran him over and he shot. A bullet stuck in my leg. But at least I made it out of there alive. Well, Dancer…my horse…” Her eyes grew wide suddenly. “Is he…?”

“He’s fine. He’s with the other horses outside.” He reassured her.

She released a relieved sigh. “He carried me for many hours. I passed out from time to time. Until he was too exhausted to go on. And we stopped. From then on until now I only remember bits and pieces. Really, I owe you my life, Sir.”

“Arthur. Just Arthur.” He said. “And it’s been my duty to help.”

“No, it’s not. Just take my gratitude.” She said amused.

“Sure.” He replied and leaned back with a small smile on his lips. Then his face fell a bit more serious again. “One more thing. Do you remember their names? Anything?”

“The one who shot my father had introduced himself as Sean Garrison. The other men didn’t speak much and never said a name. The letter was signed by _Mr_ _LC_ but I’m not sure if the person who had asked for the appointment actually was one of those at our farm.”

Silence lapsed over them for a while. Nancy played with the sleeve of the cream-colored long-sleeved shirt. She cast a glance at him again. He looked deep in thoughts, his eyes fixed on an invisible spot on the tent wall.

“What’s on your mind?” She asked.

He sighed and leaned forward, taking his hat off and running a hand through his dark blonde hair. “It just doesn’t make much sense to me that’s all. If this would’ve been a simple robbery, why would someone go through all the effort to write a letter to you days before the appointment. Asking for such. Just to come into your house and shoot your father?”

“So…what are you saying?” She slowly sat up, careful not to move too fast as not to trigger the pain in her chest again.

“Nothing, I’m saying nothing really. Just that…things don’t add up.”

“Will you help me solve it, Arthur?”

He looked at her and nodded with a reassuring smile. “We’re already on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter came quicker than expected :D 
> 
> Again, I am always looking forward to your kudos, bookmarks and especially from some comments :)


	3. Chapter 3

It was the sixth day after her arrival in the camp when Nancy found the strength to leave the bed. Tilly helped her because she was still limping. She didn’t want to risk the pain flaring up again and so she leaned a bit on Tilly. Nancy couldn’t quite tell why, but she felt a connection to the young woman. They had sat and talked for many hours during the past few days and they indeed enjoyed each other’s company a lot.

“That looks nothing like I imagined.” Nancy said while she let Tilly lead her over to the campfire. She felt all eyes on her as she sat down on one of the unoccupied chairs, placing her injured leg onto another one Tilly placed in front of her. She cast a glance around and saw a lot of unfamiliar faces. Until she spotted Arthur by one of the other tents, the biggest in the camp it seemed, talking to a man she vaguely knew from somewhere. Or maybe she just mistook him for someone else. She simply couldn’t place him anywhere. She looked away as the man’s eyes darted over to her, he nudged Arthur’s arm lightly, nodding towards her.

“Are you hungry? I can fetch you some stew and bread.” Tilly said.

“Oh, no, I can’t ask you to do that. I’ll get it myself.” She tried to get up but fell back on the chair again. “Or, maybe not.” She muttered. She looked at Tilly who raised an eyebrow with an amused smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Okay, stew and bread would be nice.”

As Tilly walked over to the cooking station Nancy took the time to take in the faces around her. Everyone had turned their attention back to where it was before she had joined them. She sighed and looked up at the evening sky. A deep purple with streaks of gold painted the sky this evening. A bittersweet sight, she thought. Just a few days ago she had admired it from the front porch of their farm. Or on horseback while giving Dancer a ride to burn off some energy. She had often stopped by the river not too far from the farm, looked across towards the mountains. Sunsets always brought a smile to her face. Not this evening though. It was the first sunset she saw amongst a group of total strangers. Except for those who had taken care of her during the past days, but even those she didn’t know that much yet.

“Here you go.” Tilly returned with a bowl of hot stew, a piece of bread, some cheese and a cup of water.

“Oh, thanks.” Nancy shifted and took the small tray from her, placing it on her lap. She dug into the cheese first. She closed her eyes, munching slowly. “Mmmh, that’s a good one.” She muttered.

“It’s cheese. All taste the same, don’t they?”

Nancy opened her eyes again. “Absolutely not. This one here is a Swiss type. European Swiss, I mean. They have a savory, nutty taste.” She explained, taking another bite. She saw Tilly tilting her head ever so lightly. “You wonder how I know these things, I suppose?”

She shrugged. “You grew up on a farm. Guess you produced cheese?”

“Oh, no, no, we didn’t.” She said and sipped some water. She felt a tug in her chest again. Speaking about these things, her father, her home like in the past still hurt. Given, everything had happened so recently she didn’t have much time to get used to everything. Yet, she swallowed her feelings and looked back at her.

“We produced wine. Different types actually and each wine has its own flavor just like cheese. You cannot pair up any wine with any cheese. You must make sure both of their components fit together. But I don’t wanna bore you with that. Besides, my stew’s getting’ cold.”

“Right, thanks for clearing it up for me though. I’ll leave you to it now.” Tilly said and walked away to her tent. Meanwhile, Nancy dug into the stew. It was a warm, well-seasoned mix of vegetables and cooked beef. She enjoyed each spoonful til the last drop. She washed it down with the rest of water, then put the tray aside. She felt much better with a belly full of food.

She was aware of a person sitting down next to her. She looked at him expectantly. “Can I help you?”

“Miss Cohen, I’m Dutch van der Linde. I’m running this illustrious gang of outlaws and misfits.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. van der Linde.” She said with a polite smile.

“Just Dutch, please. And let me say, I am deeply sorrowed by the tragic news. I knew your father. Not very well, but we’ve met a few times many, many years ago. Actually, the Count over there,” He pointed at the white horse, “came from your farm. I bought him at one year. Beautiful stallion. Your father had an exquisite taste.”

Wow, does he ever shut up? She wondered but still smiled lightly. “It means a lot to me to hear that, Dutch. I had a feeling I’ve seen you before. I just couldn’t place you anywhere. Now it makes sense. How old was I when you bought the Count?”

He tilted his head a little. “Three I’d say. Just a little kid.”

“Twenty years ago, wow.” She muttered. “Father never spoke of you.”

“Like I said, we weren’t friends or anything. Still, it pains me thinking about what you must’ve gone through recently.”

“Yes, well, thank you again for your kind words.” She shifted, slowly getting up. She was a bit wobbly on her feet. Dutch reached for her, but she waved him off. “I hope you understand that I am currently not in the mood to talk about my father or…or what happened.”

“Of course, didn’t mean to intrude.” He stepped away from her. “Just know that revenge will be taken.”

She nodded and limped away down to the river. Micah spit into the fire as he walked by past Dutch, muttering more to himself,

“Wow, what a bitch.”

“What was that?” Dutch turned towards him.

“Nothing, just talkin’ to myself, is all.” He said walking off to his tent. Dutch looked after him, thoughtfully, then turned and bumped into Arthur.

“We need to talk.”

Dutch tilted his head. “What about, son?”

“I kept thinking about the letter she mentioned. The one signed by LC?”

He placed his hand on Arthur’s back, leading him away from the fire over to the big oak tree by the path that led down to the river.

“What about it?” He asked as they stopped under the shade of the tree. Arthur sighed and looked down to the shore where he saw Nancy sitting on a boulder, looking across the water.

He looked back at Dutch. “You said her father was a business man. Quite a successful one.”

“Most successful of the area, if I recall correctly.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. “So…who with the initials of LC do we know who might have a problem with that?”

Realization dawned in his eyes. “Leviticus Cornwall.” He growled. “You think that bastard is behind it?”

“Don’t know. Makes most sense to me though.” He said and brushed past him, attempting to walk down the path to the river when he felt a light tug at his sleeve. He looked down and saw little Jack Marston looking up at him with his puppy eyes.

“Howdy, Jack.” He smiled at the boy.

“Can we go fishing, uncle Arthur?” he asked.

Arthur took off his hat and put it on Jack’s head. “Sure, partner. Go get your fishing rod. Oh, and bring mine too.”

Jack nodded, smiling brightly as he hurried back to camp, gathering the rods. He hurried back to Arthur and together they walked down to the shore. Arthur helped Jack attach the bait to the hook, then prepared his own too.

“On three?” Arthur said and Jack nodded.

“One.” Jack said.

“Two.”

“Three!” They both exclaimed and threw their hooks as far as they could. Arthur patted the boy’s shoulder.

“Well done. And now we wait.”

Nancy looked over curiously, wondering who the boy was. Was he Arthur’s son? She shifted a bit, watching them for a moment. She smiled lightly as Arthur turned his head, facing her. He nodded at her, saluting her with two fingers against his temple. He turned back to the boy and talked to him for a second. The boy nodded and Arthur pulled the hook back to land, then walked over to her.

“Good to see you out and about.” He said and pointed at the boulder. “Care if I join ya?”

She scooted over a little. “Sure, it’s been getting boring all alone.”

He sat beside her. “How do you feel?”

“Oh, you know, it’s alright. Still stings a bit when I walk but right now it’s fine.” She looked at the fishing rod in his hand. Then over at the boy still sitting on the ground, staring at the water. “Is he your son?”

“Jack? No, he’s John’s and Abigail’s son. I love him though. Almost as if he’s my own. He likes to call me uncle Arthur and to be honest it makes me feel good.”

“I’m sure it does. I take it you’re an only child too?”

“That obvious?” He said amused and shifted a little, his knee lightly brushing against hers.

Nancy laughed softly. “Yes, you definitely come across as an only child.”

Silence lapsed over them for a moment til she pointed at the rod. “Will you keep fishing now?”

“Sure, have you ever fished before?”

“No, I don’t have the patience for that, but I like watching if that’s alright.”

Arthur reached into his satchel, taking a piece of cheese and attached it to the hook. He got up and threw the hook into the water, then took his seat again.

“I don’t always have the patience either but there are times where it’s quite meditative. Calming me down. Puts my mind to a rest even if just for an hour.”

“I used to take Dancer for a ride in the evenings when I needed to calm down. We stopped by the river and watched the sunset. Nothing’s as beautiful as the setting sun, right?”

“I agree. Though there’s something equally marvelous.”

Nancy tilted her head. “Which is?”

“The rising sun.” He said with a gentle smile. “Cheesy, am i?”

She laughed and patted his arm gently. “Just a little maybe. But I get what you’re saying. It’s quite a sight to behold. The soft light, rising above the mountaintops. Bathing the plains in its light, turning fields of grass into a bath of molten gold.”

“Quite a poet, huh?” He said suddenly aware that her hand still rested on his arm. He looked down at her hand, then at her. She blinked and pulled it away with a soft blush on her cheeks. Arthur cleared his throat. “It’s a nice picture you just described, though.”

“Thanks. And yes, I do enjoy reading. Poetry not so much but still. When I was a teenager, I had a phase where all I wanted was to run away from home. Live some adventures. Not the boring day to day life at the farm. I wanted to see foreign lands. Learn about foreign culture. But then, at 16, my mom died, and everything changed. I couldn’t just leave my father behind. He needed me. And I needed him. I was stupid thinking there’s something more important than family.”

“It’s not stupid. And, as awful as it might sound to you given the circumstances now, family doesn’t necessarily mean by blood. This gang,” He pointed into the direction of the camp, “is my family. I don’t like all of them. But that’s how family works. In the end, no matter the differences you have with each other, if danger comes to you, you’ll stand together. Side by side. As a unit.”

“I’m glad you found people who make you feel like that. So, what happened to your real family? Your parents?”

Arthur opened his mouth when he was interrupted by a hard tug at the fishing line. “Whoa, something big’s on the hook.” He jumped up and started pulling. The fish fought bravely, making it difficult for Arthur to pull the hook back to land but after some moment of struggle the fish finally gave up. Jack bounced over to them, his eyes big and shiny as he saw the big fish in Arthur’s hand.

“Bravo, Arthur.” Nancy chuckled.

“Can we eat it tonight?” Jack asked eagerly.

Arthur looked from Jack to Nancy. They both smiled at him expectantly. He took the fish tightly in his hand and smacked it against the boulder, killing it. Then he handed it to Jack. “Go bring it to Mr. Pearson. Tell him to prepare it for us.”

Jack took the fish and hurried up to the camp. Arthur went to fetch the boy’s rod. Nancy got up and slowly walked over to him.

“Too bad he didn’t catch one himself.” She said examining the cheese bait still intact. “Though I suppose it’s more important he gets to spend some time with you, huh?”

“Sure. John is a good guy, he loves his son. But sometimes he doesn’t know what to do with him.”

“And that’ where you step in.” Nancy said linking her arm to his as support as they walked back to camp as well. “That’s very noble of you.”

“Oh, no, no, I am not a noble man. Not at all.” He protested. “Trust me.”

She stepped away from him as they reached the camp again, letting go of him. “I think I do, Arthur Morgan.”

He tilted his head. “Do what?”

She walked away, casting a glance over her shoulder. “Trust you.”


	4. Chapter 4

“There you are, boy.” Nancy gently patted Dancer’s neck, enjoying the soft fur beneath her fingertips. His jet-black coat shimmered in the morning sun. She reached into her satchel and offered him a carrot. “Don’t tell Mr. Pearson, but I snatched that one from the cooking tent.”

Dancer munched the carrot, pawing at the grass. He huffed and pressed his nose against her hand. Nancy sighed.

“I know, you’re bored. Tell you what,” She leaned in closer and whispered, “Me too.”

She cast a glance around towards her own tent just a few steps away from the horses. It’s been three weeks since she first came into the camp and by now she had a feeling for the daily routine among the gang. Her relationship with Tilly had grown a lot, they spent a lot of time together. No matter if taking a walk along the shore, have a drink by the fire in the evening or just play some Domino. Nancy hadn’t played this game before and was eager to learn it with Tilly’s help. She’s gotten better from day to day.

Nancy looked back at Dancer. “Wait here, boy.”

She wandered over to her tent and prepared the saddle that was leaning against her cot. She rolled up the sleeves of her blouse, then lifted the saddle. She staggered over to her horse again and began saddling him up.

Some of the men, including Arthur, John, Charles and Sean, had headed out earlier this morning. Nancy wasn’t sure what they were up to but considering the number of weapons they had taken with them she suspected they were up to no good. She knew these men were outlaws, and they would kill if necessary. Just like she would. Just like she did. Arthur had told her he had killed men before. All of them far from innocent. She shrugged out of her thoughts when she heard Tilly calling for her. She turned and smiled at her friend.

“You aren’t leaving, are you?”

“No, I just feel much better and Dancer needs to burn off some energy. Besides, if I stay in camp the entire time I might go crazy.” She said and mounted her horse. She looked down at Tilly. “Care to join me?”

“I would like to, but I already promised Miss Grimshaw to help with some stuff. But next time for sure. Just, be careful out there, okay?”

Nancy nodded. Before she could turn Dancer around, Tilly spoke up again. “Wait, one more thing. Can’t let you go like that.” She hurried away and returned after a moment with a sawed-off shotgun, a belt holster and some ammo. “Just in case.”

“Oh Tilly,” She put the holster around her waist, then took the weapon and ammo. “I doubt I’ll need it, but thanks anyway.” She pushed the gun into the holster and winked at her. “See you later.” She saluted her and spurred Dancer lightly. The stallion whickered and trotted away from the camp and along the forest path until they reached the main road. The sun was shining brightly on this day, yet a soft breeze played with her hair. Nancy inhaled deeply, then exhaled with a loud sigh.

“Alright, show me what you got. HA!” She spurred Dancer into a sprint, the horse grunting, the drumbeat of his hooves vibrating in her chest as they raced across the grassy plains. She slowed him down a bit as they neared a crossroad, stopping completely as a stagecoach drove by heading towards Valentine for sure as she read the sign on the fingerpost. She looked after the coach, then turned her head towards the east. She longed to return home. Even just for the sake of getting some of her belongings. Yet, she wasn’t sure going alone would be such a good idea. Besides, she told Tilly she’d be back later. Riding to the farm would take many hours. She wouldn’t be back in camp before the next day. No, she couldn’t do that. Returning was too risky anyway. Who knew who might still be looking for her in the area. Those three guys she escaped from surely had returned to whoever hired them. That person knew she was still out there.

She looked back towards the road that would lead to Valentine. Should she go there? She had some money in her pocket. She could buy some goods for the camp. Dutch had told her there’s no need for her to provide anything; that she had gone through a lot lately. That he was giving her shelter and protection in his camp. Yet, she felt bad not giving any money or providing any food or other goods. She wanted to show the gang that she appreciated their help. She turned Dancer and spurred him again, heading towards Valentine.

The main road of Valentine was still a bit muddy from the rain the previous night. Faint billows of smoke rose from ground as the sun warmed it. Dancer trotted slowly along the road. It was already quite busy in town. Nancy stopped in front of the general goods store and tied Dancer at the pole in front of it.

No one seemed to pay much attention to her. Sure, why would they? It wasn’t as if people in this town ever remembered what she looked like. The last time she was in Valentine was back when she had been 16. Soon after her mother had succumbed to an inflammation of the lungs. That was seven years ago now. She had clearly changed in that time. Her hair was just on shoulder length as a teenager. Now it flowed way past her shoulders almost to the middle of her spine.

A tiny bell jingled as she opened the door to the store. The owner looked up from the newspaper he had been reading and straightened.

“Mornin’ Miss. How can I help ya?”

She cast a look around the shelves. “Thanks, but I’ll get my bearings.”

The store owner nodded with a grunt and stuck his nose back into the papers. Meanwhile Nancy pulled out a canvas pouch from her satchel and started filling it with some canned fruits and vegetables. Corn, peaches, cherries, beans. Then she took some ground coffee and whiskey. She wasn’t keen on both of those drinks, but she knew coffee was a valuable good in the camp, most of the men liked it. Plus, the whiskey she found happened to be Arthur’s favorite. She was sure giving him a bottle of his favorite drink would put a smile on his face. He should smile more often, she thought. She put crackers, canned salmon, meat and a couple bags of sweets into the pouch, then headed to the counter.

The owner wrote down the prices for the items. While he did so she cast a glance at the newspaper. She furrowed her brow lightly as she saw one of the headlines jumping at her like a rabid dog in a dark back alley.

**_The Grapewine Murder – Assassination or family tragedy?_ **

Her heart skipped a beat. What was that supposed to mean? She longed to read the article but was pulled out of her thoughts as the store owner pushed the bill towards her with the total amount for the goods. Her fingers felt clammy all of a sudden while she fumbled with the money in her purse. She handed the coins to the man, then packed the goods back into her pouch. Without saying goodbye she hurried out of the store and took Dancer by the reigns, leading him down the road towards the newspaper stand. She had to know what the authorities were thinking what happened at her home. Why would the paper call it a possible family tragedy?

She paid the paperboy and took one of the papers, then sat down on a crate nearby. She flipped through until she found the article. Her eyes drifted slowly over the article, reading it with a cold claw squeezing her heart with each word she read. That couldn’t be right. Why would they think…?

Nancy looked up and tossed the paper aside with a frustrated groan. “Come, boy.” She led Dancer back to the road. She ran some more errands, buying fresh meat at the butcher, gathered some medicine at the apothecary. Until finally she reached the post office. Normally, her father had went to Valentine once a week to gather possible letters and other mail. Given the recent events she couldn’t just walk up to the post officer and ask for mail for her father. That would only lead her into trouble.

**_What happened at the Grapevine farm? Why did Russel Cohen had to die? There is just one person who could give answers to these questions. Nancy Cohen, the daughter of the late business man, has gone missing. Did something happen to her? Or isn’t she as innocent as one might believe? You see, many questions still need answers. If you want to help solve the horrible crime report any sightings of the Cohen girl to the authorities._ **

The words of that news article still haunted her mind. How could anyone think she could have had anything to do with her father’s death? Would, whoever did it, really go as far as blaming her for murdering her own father? That was when she spotted it. Hanging at a pole near the post office. A poster with the iconic words WANTED printed on top. She quickly stepped towards it, staring at a picture of her. A quite recent one as well. How was that possible? She cast a glance up and down the road but thanks to the post office being a bit outside of town not many people were around at this time of the day. She ripped the poster off the pole and stuffed it into her satchel. She knew whoever was behind her father’s death was trying to pin it onto her. Those men who had ransacked the house must have taken the picture from her room. This was the plan all along. Getting rid of her father for whatever reason, then make it look like she was the culprit. And with the second corpse it surely did look a lot like it. The news article said almost the same.

**_Alongside the dead body of Mr Cohen the officials found another dead body in the kitchen. The poor man was killed in cold blood with a stab wound in his neck. What did make Nancy Cohen snap?_ **

She narrowed her eyes, then mounted Dancer. She couldn’t stay in town any longer. She had no idea how many wanted posters had been hung up, and she had no intention to find it out. If they found out it was her the poster was depicting the sheriff would put her in jail until she was proven innocent. And by God, she couldn’t prove it at all.

* * *

 

 It was late at night as Arthur rode back to camp after he robbed a train with the help of John, Charles and Sean. He hadn’t been so sure they could pull it off just the four of them, but they did indeed. He had taken a sack of valuables while the others took the rest. They had split up to cause a diversion, not making it too easy for anyone to catch up on them.

The moon was shining down, lightning the path ahead. Bounty, his mare, slowly galloped along the main road. It was still a rather long ride. He wouldn’t reach the camp before an hour. He felt weary, his eyes drifted shut for a few seconds. With a groan he slowed Bounty to a halt beneath a big tree a few miles off the road. He just needed a quick nap.

Once he had tied his horse securely to the tree and stuffed the valuable into a secret pocket in his leather coat he sat down, leaning against the trunk of the tree. He pulled his hat down a bit over his face and closed his eyes. It didn’t take long until he dozed off. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep when he woke again, the feeling of cold iron pressing against his neck lightly. He couldn’t see with his hat still covering his eyes, but he knew he was in trouble.

“What’s this? A cowboy caught off his guard?”

It took him a second to realize who that playful voice belonged to until he relaxed, pulling his hat back up. He chuckled lightly as he saw it indeed was Nancy. She laughed softly and pulled the shotgun away from his neck, lifting it to her mouth and blew imaginary smoke from the barrel.

“Gotcha good there, didn’t I?” she grinned and put the gun into her holster.

“You’re lucky I’m not a shoot first, ask questions later kinda guy.” He said amused and shifted a little to sit up straight. “Besides, what are you doing out here alone at night?”

She sat down, cross-legged, her hands folded. She looked at him. “I was in Valentine today. Just getting some goods. Food, medicine and so on.”

“And you’re still out at night because…?”

She shrugged. “I needed time for myself. To think things through. Oh!” She pulled a pouch over and reached inside. “I got this for you.”

He tilted his head, blinking surprised as she revealed a bottle of his favorite whiskey. “Nancy, you didn’t have to. That was expensive for sure.”

“You seem to forget I’m not a girl from the streets.” She said amused and pushed the bottle against his chest. He reached up and took it from her. “I can afford things.”

He looked down at the bottle, then back at her. “Thanks, Nancy.”

“You’re welcome. You’ve done a lot for me. I thought it’s time to do something nice for you. And unless you decide to get shot and make me care for you, getting your favorite whiskey is all I could think of doing.”

He put the bottle aside and placed his hat down too. “Will you tell me now what happened?”

“What do you mean?” She looked down at her hands.

“Something’s bothering you, I can tell.”

She sighed and reached into her satchel, pulling out the poster. She handed it to him. Arthur took it and stared down at it wordlessly for a moment. Then he looked back at her.

“Where did you get this?”

“Outside the Valentine post office. Not sure, probably there are some more in town. I didn’t pay attention until I found this one. I’ve read the newspaper, Arthur. They suspect I could have murdered my father.” She growled. “Whoever did this to my family will pay, Arthur. I will make sure they do.”

A hot tear found its way down along her cheek. She hated that he saw her like this. She brushed the tear away and sniffled a little, looking at him silently. He crumbled the poster and lighted a match, setting it on fire.

“I’ll make sure there are no more wanted posters of you in town. I promise. But for now you should forget about it. You know what?” He snatched the bottle from the ground and opened it. “Let’s drink to…”

“Justice?”

“Nah,” He shook his head. “…to privacy.”

She laughed. “That sounds good to me.” She took the bottle from him as he offered her the first swig. She took one, coughing from the unaccustomed sharp taste of the drink. 

Arthur laughed softly, taking the bottle from her again. “Not used to the fine taste of whiskey, huh?” He winked and took a swig.

“We produced wine, not whiskey, alright?” She pinched his arm and snatched the bottle again, drinking a bit more. The liquid burned in her throat, she scrunched her face a little, exhaling loudly.

“Ha…hu…yeah, that will never be my kind of drink.” She giggled.

“More for me then.” He took one last swig, then put the half empty bottle aside. He leaned back against the tree, looking up at the night sky. She shifted and dropped down onto her back, her head resting on one of her hands.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She pointed at the starlit sky. Arthur looked at her, then up again. 

"You see that line over there?”

He hummed. “I don’t see any lines.”

She chuckled and reached for him. “Come here.” She tugged at his arm and he followed suit, lowering onto his back next to her. “There…” She took his hand and guided it up, making him trace the line of stars she was referring to.

“Oh, yeah, that one.” He said. For a second he remained silent. “And…what about it?”

She let go of his hand. “It’s called Canis Major.”

“Canis who?” he chuckled.

“Canis Major. That’s latin.”

“I know latin. Hola, muchacha.” He turned his head and grinned at her.

Wow, the whiskey clearly showed its effect. She laughed. “That’s Spanish. I mean Latin. As in what the Romans speak. Canis Major means Greater Dog. Cause it looks like a dog.”

“A stick figure dog maybe.”

“Point is,” she emphasized, “It looks beautiful.”

“Mmmhmmm…that I can agree with.”

They lapsed into silence for a while, just lying side by side, looking up at the sky. Just the sound of the crickets singing their song, in the distance a wolf howled. Nancy turned her head towards him, taking in his features.

“Arthur?”

“Mh?” He looked at her.

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Distracting me. From everything. It means a lot to me.”

He sat up slowly and took his hat from the ground, putting it on again. “I’m glad you think so. We should return to camp now though.”

“Right, sure.” She got up as well, preparing Dancer. She mounted him as Arthur mounted Bounty. They rode in silence until they reached the camp again. Not many were awake anymore, just a few tents were lit.

“I better bring the goods over to the cooking station.” She said and took the pouch and made an attempt to unsaddle her horse when Arthur placed his hand on hers, the leather of his glove felt warm on her skin.

“I’ll handle the saddle. You store the goods and go to sleep. It’s late.”

“Thank you, Arthur.” She said, a soft smile on her lips. She turned, but hesitated. “There’s something I…I thought about earlier today.” She turned towards him again. “Before I rode to Valentine. By the crossroads I had a split moment of…I don’t know. I contemplated whether I should ride back home or not.”

“Why didn’t you?” He shifted from one foot to the other.

“Maybe I was afraid.” She shrugged. “Maybe I didn’t want to go alone.” Her eyes locked with his for a moment. He nodded slowly.

“Sleep it over.” He said and started working on the saddle. “If you still consider it in the morning, we’ll talk again.”

She nodded. “Good night, Arthur.”

“Night, Nancy.” He looked after her for a moment, then shrugged out of his thoughts and unsaddled Dancer and Bounty. He walked into camp, not feeling tired at all anymore. He spotted John and Hosea by the fire and joined them for a few more hours until they retreated to their beds too. Finally, he crashed on his own cot and fell asleep for the rest of the night.

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Nancy spent most of the night tossing and turning. The thoughts weighing heavily on her mind the longer she dared thinking about the recent events. With a bounty on her head, even though explicitly stating she had to be taken in to the sheriff alive, was it really a good idea to return home? Even if just for a few hours to gather some belongings?

She sighed and grabbed the pocket watch from the nightstand, checking the time. She groaned as she saw it was just barely 4 in the morning. She placed the watch down again and sat up, her naked feet touching the cool ground. She grabbed the woolen blanket, draping it around her shoulders, and stepped outside. The camp was quiet. By the outskirts near the forest she saw the glimmer of a torch. One of the guys taking watch. She sat at the domino table, absentmindedly playing with the pieces. She sat there for a while, silently and by herself until she finally came to a decision.

She headed back to her tent and began dressing up in her pants, blouse, boots. Then packed a satchel with some provisions. Mainly crackers, nuts, some dried meat, water, and some medicine. Just in case. She then slung the gun belt around her hips, checking the shotgun. Since she hadn’t used it anyway it was still in good condition. She pushed it back into the holster, then left her tent. It was already 6 in the morning by then. The sun was on its way up behind the mountain range in the distance. Its light yet not reaching quite as far yet though. Nancy walked over to Arthur’s tent, unsure if she should wake him. She silently prayed he was awake already.

“Nancy?” He said as he just left his tent, her body colliding gently with his. He placed his hands on her shoulders, steading her. “You’re awake already?”

“I couldn’t sleep well anyway. I made my decision.” She replied.

Arthur looked her up and down slowly, then nodded. “Can I get breakfast first?”

She chuckled. “Yeah sure, I’ll ready my horse.”

He walked past her over to the cooking station, gathering some bread, put cheese and tomatoes onto it, then brewed some coffee. He looked over towards the horses, watching her readying Dancer for the long ride. He shook his head ever so lightly and turned back to the sandwich he had made for himself. He might not know her for long yet, but he had a feeling she hadn’t eaten anything yet. He prepared three more sandwiches, so both could have two for themselves. He poured coffee into two cups, grabbed the plate of sandwiches and carried everything over to the domino table.

“Nancy?” He called.

She looked over questioningly. She saw the two cups and four sandwiches. A light smile curled her lips as she patted Dancer’s neck, then walked over to Arthur.

“You didn’t have to…”

“I know, but I did anyway. It’s gonna be a long ride. Sit and have breakfast with me.” He took a seat and grabbed one of the sandwiches, taking a bite. He hummed and pushed the plate towards her as she sat down across from him.

“Looking good.” She said inspecting the sandwich, then took a bite. “Mmmmh…and tastes good!” Her eyes sparkled as she munched, smiling at him. She took the coffee mug and sniffed at it. “You know, I’m not much of a coffee drinker but this smells kinda good.”

“Didn’t know that.” He said. “Though maybe you like my coffee?”

She laughed lightly. “You say your coffee tastes different than someone else’s?”

“Just sayin’ give it a try.” He finished his sandwich and leaned back, watching amused as she took a small sip of the dark liquid. She wrinkled her nose a little. His grin turned more cheekily. “So?”

“I think I will stick to tea. And water.” She pushed the mug towards him, and he took it, drinking it, then finished his own. She leaned onto her elbows on the table. “Thank you for riding with me today, Arthur.”

“Don’t mention it.” He got up. “I’m gonna send John to check out Valentine for the Wanted posters of you. You’re one of us now. We look out for each other.”

She blinked and got up as well. “I am?”

He looked at her, tilting his head a little. “Mh?”

“One of you. I am one of you now? Just like that?” She followed him as he walked to the horses. He stopped next to Bounty and looked at her.

“Sure, you are. Unless you don’t wanna.” He mounted his horse.

“No, yeah, I think I do. I have no one else. I just never imagined I’d be part of a band of outlaws someday. Yet, here I am.” She mounted Dancer. “Given, the circumstances could be better but that’s life, huh?”

“That’s life indeed.” He muttered and pressed his heels into Bounty’s side, the horse moved forward trotting away from camp. Nancy brought Dancer into the same speed, riding alongside Arthur.

* * *

 

Dutch stepped outside, just catching glimpse of the two leaving camp together. He looked after them thoughtfully. Hosea walked over to him.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing, wondering where they’re going.” He said and looked at his friend.

“I know where they’re going. They’re heading to her farm. Arthur told me last night that she would like to get some of her belongings.” He hesitated before he continued, “He also told me that Nancy is a wanted woman now. She found posters of her hanging at the post office in Valentine. Probably more in town. He sent John over to check and remove them.”

“Why is she a wanted woman?” He looked at him surprised. “She did nothing wrong.”

“You know it. I know it. We all know it. Still, whoever killed Russel Cohen is framing her for the murder. They, whoever they are, make it look like a family tragedy. That she killed her father and is now on the run. It’s even in the papers.”

“And he’s taking her to the farm?” He growled. “That’s suicide!”

Hosea sighed. “Arthur is a good gunman. And as far as I could see she has a weapon too.”

“And does she know how to use one?” Dutch said and walked over to the cooking station. “I know Arthur can handle things, but he can’t handle everything on his own. What if Cornwall has his henchmen stationed at the farm, waiting for her to come back?”

“Wait, Cornwall?” He followed him. “How do we know it’s him?”

Dutch told him about Arthur’s suspicions regarding the letter and the initials used in it. He brewed coffee for them both and while the coffee was brewing he turned towards Hosea. “We don’t know for sure, but it would fit.”

“What would Cornwall gain from killing Russel?” Hosea rubbed his chin. “They’re both successful, each in their own business.”

“Cornwall is a snake.” He spat. “He’d do everything to gain more power. To become even richer than he already is. Damn capitalist son of a bitch.”

“Whoa, easy there, Dutch. We all hate Cornwall, but don’t let one meager suspicion get to you. We cannot just walk up to him and accuse him. He’ll have them damn Pinkertons on our butts the second we come near him. This has to be handled with a cool head.”

“Let’s just hope no one’s ambushing them at the farm.” He muttered.

* * *

 

Hours and hours passed by since they left camp. The sun stood high in the sky by now. Burning down on them as they rode across the plains. Nancy wiped some sweat from her forehead.

“Maybe we should pause for a while? Somewhere less…hot?”

Arthur looked around, then pointed towards a group of trees nearby. “That looks good. Let’s have lunch and nap for a while. We’re not in such a hurry anyway.”

Soon enough they had secured their horses to the trees and settled in the shade, eating their sandwiches. Once he was done with his meal, Arthur pointed at the shotgun at Nancy’s hip.

“Ever fired one of these?”

“Huh?” She looked at the gun. “Oh, no, actually I haven’t. Tilly gave me this for protection. I didn’t want to admit that I’ve no clue how to use it. I thought taking it with me will put her mind at ease so she won’t worry about me. But, it can’t be _that_ difficult, can it?”

He brushed his hands against his pants and wriggled his fingers. “Give it to me.”

Nancy pulled the gun from the holster and handed it over. She watched him inspect it silently for a moment. She leaned closer.

“Arthur? What are you doing?” She asked curiously.

He looked at her. “Just checked if its well taken care of. Looks clean and in good shape. But now you’re one of us. What’s worse is…you’re a wanted woman. You need to know how to use that gun. Or any gun, that is, but for now you should get some training with the one you have.” He offered it back to her and she took it carefully.

“So, what’re you saying?”

“We’ll nap for an hour now, then I’ll teach you the basics. Then we’ll ride on til nightfall. Deal?”

She smiled lightly. “Deal.”

The gunshot rang through the air, the bullet whizzed right past the bottle sitting atop a tree stump. Nancy groaned and lowered the gun.

“I’ll never get the hang of it.” She grumbled frustrated.

“Nah, you will. Don’t expect to be a gunslinger after a few tries.” Arthur stepped closer behind her, lifting her arm. “You need to make some adjustments first.” He said and pushed her feet apart a bit with his boot, then moved her body sideways a little. Then, he placed her free hand on the gun, helping her to level it and aim perfectly at the bottle. “Now, try again.”

He stepped back. Nancy inhaled and exhaled deeply, then shot again. The bullet crashed against the bottle, making the glass shatter in many pieces.

“YES!” She raised her arms and turned towards him with a big smile. “I made it! Did you see that?”

“Sure did.” He said amused. “Well done.” He fetched another bottle from his bag and placed it onto the stump. “One more though. I wanna see if you understood the posture I showed you.”

She nodded and waited for him to step away from the stump, then took the same posture as before, aimed and shot. Again, the bottle was smashed and exploded again. Nancy turned on her heels, blowing the smoke from the barrel. She grinned at him and tried to twirl the gun, losing grip though and fumbled for it in midair. Arthur quickly stepped closer and caught it before it could hit the ground. She blushed and blew some hair out of her face.

“Sorry, I kinda was too eager to show off.” She chuckled lightly and took the gun again, pushing it into the holster.

“Happens to the best of us.” He patted her shoulder. “Now, it’s time we get going. We’re not far from the oil fields, we could even make it to the farm by nightfall.”

“Sounds good. I guess.” She muttered and walked over to Dancer, gently stroking the stallion’s black fur. Arthur watched her for a moment, then began packing their belongings and readied Bounty.

“You don’t sound too happy.” He mounted his horse. She looked up at him and shrugged, then mounted her horse too.

“It’s just weird returning home after what happened. Not knowing what will await us.”

“I know how you must feel. But you’re not alone.” He said and brought Bounty into a trot alongside her.

It was way past 9pm when they reached the outer fence that secured the Grapevine Farm. They stopped their horses on a small hill. The farmhouse lay dark and silent in the distance. Nancy felt a shiver run across her skin.

“Doesn’t look like someone’s there, does it?” She almost whispered.

Arthur pulled out a looking glass from his bag and looked over across the fields, trying to make out any suspicious movements or signs. But nothing moved. He lowered the looking glass and stored it again.

“I think it’s safe to go. Still, stay close to me.”

She nodded and they rode through the gate and closer towards the house. She spotted the burned down stables. An icy hand clutched her heart. What had happened to the horses? Did they burn too? Or could they flee? She really hoped the latter. The chickens were gone though, so were the goats. The authorities probably set them free or took them for auction. Everything that was left of her former life was a house that lay dead silent before her.

“Nancy?”

She shook out of her thoughts as she heard Arthur’s voice. She looked at him. “Hm?”

“I asked if you’re ready to go inside?”

“Oh,” She mumbled, shaking off the chill feeling. “Yes, I think I am.” She dismounted Dancer and let go of his reigns. Arthur followed her up the steps onto the porch, the floorboards creaking under his heavy boots.

“Alright…here goes nothing.” She whispered and wrapped her fingers around the doorknob, pulling the door open. It was, much to both of their surprise, unlocked. Arthur stopped her, placing his hand on hers.

“I’ll go first. Stay behind me.” He drew his gun and stepped past her into the entry hall. Nancy followed him, staying right behind him like he had told her. The house smelled of dust. And the faint odor of death still hung in the air. Maybe she just imagined that though.

“Where’s your room?” he asked as he had made sure the lower level of the house was safe. She sniffled a little and pointed at the staircase.

“Upper floor. First door to the left.”

He nodded and signaled her to follow him again. She cast a quick glance into the dining room as they passed by. Of course, the body of her father wasn’t there anymore. Yet, the dark stain of blood was still on the wall. She forced herself to look away and followed Arthur upstairs. He went ahead, checking all the rooms before he returned to her and pointed at her bedroom door.

“You ready?”

“Yeah…” She opened the door. She choked back a gasp as she saw the state of her room. It was completely trashed. Books and papers scattered on the floor, her bedlinen ripped, drawers yanked out of the dresser.

“How is it possible that someone left my room in such a state and then manages to make it all look like a family murder?” She growled. “The sheriff cannot really believe someone who murdered their father would trash their room like this. For what reason? I don’t get it.” She picked up a splintered picture frame from the ground. It showed a picture of a woman smiling into the camera. A little girl sitting on her lap.

“That’s my mother. And that was me.” She said as Arthur stepped up behind her. He took the picture from her hands. He remained silent. She looked over her shoulder at him, furrowing her brow lightly. “You alright?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. Just some memories resurfacing. Now,” He put the frame on the nightstand, “I’d say grab everything you need, and we’ll be gone.”

She nodded and grabbed a few of her favorite clothes from the dresser, some boots, undergarments. Some toiletries, and finally opened a small box. “No…” She muttered. “No, please…”

“What is it?”

“They took my locket! I had a golden necklace with a locket. It was an heirloom, it belonged to my grandma.” She let out a frustrated yell and tossed the empty box against the wall. “I swear to God, Arthur, if we ever find the bastards who did this to my family I will personally slit their throats and toss into a den of pigs!”

He blinked a bit surprised by her sudden outburst. “Easy there, Nancy. I know you’re hurting but you need to stay calm. Okay?”

“Easy for you to say.” She muttered and grabbed her bag with her belongings. “Let’s just go. I can’t stay and look at this mess any longer.” She walked past him out of the room and down the stairs. Arthur lingered in her room for a moment, taking in the mess one last time and followed as he heard the sudden noise outside.

“Nancy wait!” He quickly reached for hers shoulder and pulled her back up the stairs.

“Wha—?” She said confused but was cut off as he covered her mouth with his gloved hand.

“There’s someone outside.” He whispered.

“Let’s fight them!” She hissed.

“We don’t know how many there are.” He pulled her gently with him to her room again, closing the door and locking it.

“Brilliant, and now?”

He pulled his guns out and walked over to the window that overlooked parts of the front yard. “I see four…no wait, five men. Bounty hunters, for sure.”

She pulled out her weapon. “They know we’re in the house, they saw the horses. Makes no sense to hide up here like the three little pigs.”

He looked at her again. “You sure you’re ready to shoot that gun in a real fight?”

“Arthur, you taught me how to use it. There are just five, you said.”

“As far as I can tell.” He went back to the door. “If we’re gonna do this, you’ll listen to me. You do as I say, okay?”

“Yeah, I will.”

“Just don’t die out there, Nancy.” He opened the door. She walked towards him.

“As long as you don’t either.” She winked at him and readied her weapon.

He nodded at her one final time, then walked out of the room, Nancy on his heels as they headed down into the fight.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna be more like a filler chapter. The next one will be much longer again, promise :D

* * *

 

Hastily, Nancy scrambled behind the dining room wall as the bullets whizzed past her. She saw Arthur across from her in the kitchen. He cast a glance at her too, then peeked around the wall. Raising his gun he shot one of the guys that broke into the house. She calmed her breathing as best as she could, then whirled out of her hiding spot and raised her shotgun, aiming at another guy. The bullet hit him, and he tumbled backwards, crashing through the window next to the door and landed outside on the front porch. She had no idea if he was still alive or if she had just killed him.

“Just give up!” One of the guys called. “You brought this onto yourself, bitch!”

She gritted her teeth and aimed her gun at the man. Her eyes grew wide though as there came only a click from her gun.

“No, no no no no!” She muttered angrily and looked at Arthur, then at the man heading towards her with his gun aimed at her chest.

“Raaah!” Arthur growled loudly and jumped out of the kitchen, crashing into the man. They tumbled to the floor, the gun dropped out of the bounty hunter’s hand. Nancy dived for it and shot another man just entering the house while Arthur still wrestled with the guy until he found the opportunity to shoot him in the head. He pushed himself up, brushing sweat from his forehead. His hair fell a bit into his eyes.

“There’s still at least one outside.” He brushed his hair back as he turned towards her again. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, panting lightly. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Thanks. Let’s end this once and for all.” She picked up Arthur’s hat and put it on her head. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all,” He smiled lightly, taking her shotgun, quickly reloading it for her. “Sorry, should’ve showed you how to do that properly earlier.”

“No time for apologies.” She took the gun from him. He nodded and readied his own; together they stepped outside onto the front porch. The man Nancy had shot was still lying on the porch, groaning though as he reached up for her. She wasn’t sure if he seeked help, begging for mercy or if he’d love to strangle her if only he’d have the chance. She checked where she had hit him. It looked like she had gotten him in the shoulder and bits of his chest but not as life threatening as she had thought.

“I’m not done with you yet.” She hissed at him, kicking his hand away as he tried to grab her boot.

“Where are you?” Arthur yelled into the night. “We know you’re still out there, coward!”

They turned as the sound of thunderous hoofbeats drummed on the ground. A horse bolted past them, one last guy on top. That bastard dared trying to get away. Arthur aimed and shot, hitting him in the back of his head. The body rolled off the horse and it went on fleeing into the night.

Nancy panted lightly, putting the gun into the holster and crouched beside the injured man. He whimpered as she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

“If I were you I’d start spilling. Who hired you?” She hissed.

Arthur stepped closer, putting his foot onto the man’s hand, making sure he wouldn’t try anything funny.

“Don’t know…what you’re talkin’ bout.” He sputtered, coughing. Blood covered her hands as he coughed. “J-just saw the poster!” He cried out as she put pressure on his wound.

“You sure about that?”

“Y-yes! Yes, please!”

Arthur pulled her away from him. “He must know more. Think about it. They were ready to kill you. They wouldn’t get the bounty in that case. Sheriff wants you alive.”

She looked down at the man again. “You’re lying. Tell us the damn truth!”

He shook his head. “N-no, I’m not lying! I really am not! Please, don’t kill me!” He sobbed.

“You came here to kill me! If you know me from the posters you’d know killing me is not part of the deal. You won’t see any money if you kill me, so, I ask you once more. Who sent you?”

He groaned and remained silent. Arthur reached down and pulled him up. “Speak!” He growled and knocked his fist against the man’s jaw. He cried out and tumbled backwards down the stairs.

“If you don’t speak now we’ll make you squeak later.” Nancy stepped down from the porch alongside Arthur. “You’re coming with us.”

Arthur took some rope from his horse’s saddle and tied the man’s wrists and feet. “You heard the lady.” He picked him up and placed him onto the back of his horse. “We should leave now before any reinforcements are coming.”

Nancy nodded shortly and grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. She fastened the second bag to Dancer’s saddle before she mounted him. She cast a last, wistful look across the property, then pressed the heels of her boots into the horse’s side.

“You can’t do that!” The man protested. “They will come and get you! They will find you!”

“Oh, suddenly you’re talking?” Nancy said amused. “Now all you gotta do is tell us who _they_ are and you’re free to go.”

He huffed. “As if you’d let me go just like that. I’m taking everything with me into my grave if I must!”

Arthur groaned and halted. Nancy stopped and looked at him questioningly as he dismounted. He ripped some cloth from the saddle and balled it up, stuffing it into the man’s mouth.

“That’ll shut him up.” He said and grinned at her as she laughed.

They rode for a few more hours, mostly in silence. It was still in the middle of the night as they reached what looked like an abandoned shack. Arthur checked it, finding it empty. Rain was pouring down on them for a while already.

“Let’s stay here for now. At least til the rain stops.” He declared and secured his horse, carrying the guy into the shack. Nancy followed him inside and closed the door. The inside looked just as shabby as the outside, but at least the roof was intact, and no rain could reach them in there.

She put her bags on the ground and slid down along the wall, her face buried in her hands. Arthur walked over and crouched down in front of her.

“You okay?”

She lowered her hands. “That was just...intense. I’ve never been in a gunfight before. And this damn gun acted up in the wrong moment. If I would’ve been alone there tonight I might be dead. Or in a prison cell for all I know.”

She kneaded her hands. Arthur hesitated for a split second before he reached out, taking her hands in his. He squeezed them gently.

“You’re still alive. And I make sure that it stays like this. I ain’t gonna let anyone hurt you.”

She smiled weakly, pulling her hands away slowly. “Thank you, Arthur. It’s all just so confusing. I can’t think of anything that could possibly make me a target. Or my father. I guess it doesn’t matter anymore now.”

“You should rest. Here, found this.” He got up and went out of the room, then returned with a few blankets. “Use some as a pillow maybe.”

“What about you?” She asked as she prepared her makeshift bed. He shrugged and gestured at the table.

“Probably sitting there, making sure our friend there doesn’t die.” He pointed at the other room where their hostage was currently in.

“You sure you don’t need some sleep too?”

“Nah,” He waved her off. “It’s alright. I’m used to this stuff. You must be exhausted.” He walked over to the bench by the table and sat down. “Sleep well, Nancy.”

She shifted, covering herself with a woolen blanket. “Good night, Arthur.” She mumbled and almost instantly fell asleep once her head touched the pillow.

 


End file.
